


I Saw Johnny Kissing Santa Claus

by SBG



Series: New Life [14]
Category: Emergency!
Genre: Bottoming from the Top, Christmas, Holidays, M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 11:25:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBG/pseuds/SBG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny and Roy's first official Christmas together, and after the scares they've had, they deserve all the happiness in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Saw Johnny Kissing Santa Claus

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, this one was so tough to write, because it's come full circle. I've taken John and Roy through a full year of holidays, and through so much, and I didn't want it to end. :/ 
> 
> Unedited, so forgive errors and expect me to update as needed once I have the chance to go through it better. Happy holidays to all, and thank you for the dedicated few who have stuck with me through this series!

Roy surveyed the living room, a tiny bit appalled and a whole lot charmed by the mish-mash of decorations filling nearly every nook and cranny. He had no idea where half of the stuff had come from, all bright and incredibly shiny, and he was sure the half he didn’t recognize had been recent acquisitions. He bit on the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too wide at the ridiculous level of cheer the house boasted. He couldn’t help but do a mental compare and contrast with last year, when everything had seemed so dark for him and the kids, yet. There’d been a bare thread of hope amid the natural depression. 

It was just before he’d finally realized the true depth of what Johnny Gage had come to mean to him in the months since Joanne’s accident. The holiday season had been bittersweet. He refused, though, to allow that melancholy and slight, recurring guilt about his own happiness leak into something that was so good now. Some melancholia was always going to stir up in him, because of Joanne’s love for this time of the holidays and the sheer amount of his life he’d spent with her. That didn’t mean there wasn’t plenty of room for the happiness.

The proliferation of holiday décor was a direct result of Johnny’s physiologist suggesting that the activity would be great to help with dexterity of his weakened left side as well as overall mobility. That had been all she wrote and a license to go wild, apparently, as far as John was concerned. Roy hadn’t the heart to mention how he was a minimalist when it first started a week after Thanksgiving, and he’d told himself that a few candles depicting carolers set out on the coffee table were not a big deal. But then the caroler candles were joined by two trees, a bell, a streetlight and a small steepled church with glitter for snow, all on a carefully arranged fluffy pillow of cotton batting as snow, and he’d bitten back a horrified laugh. 

Every time Roy came home from a shift after that, there’d be some more kitschy baubles and figurines added to each room. Some of it was downright tacky. Johnny’s face won him over, earnest and smiling, when he considered bringing up a cease and desist order. 

“Wow,” he said. He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “When it’s all lit up, it’s really something, isn’t it?”

“Merry,” Johnny said with a smile. “Bright, may days be.”

Besides, with the kids firmly on Johnny’s side the battle was bound to be lost and so Roy hadn’t even tried. Deep down, he hadn’t really wanted to. The part of him that objected, he figured, was the part firmly stuck in the idea of this being _his_ home, when it was becoming more and more obvious it was _theirs_ now even if Johnny hadn’t said as much in his broken speech with turns of phrase that were still sometimes odd. Even if it was a temporary thing, he was going to relish every moment of having Johnny under his roof, whole and well on his way to healthy again. And if he dreamed that his Christmas gift this year would be Johnny agreeing to sell his house and property, well, that would simply be icing on the cake.

“I like that one,” Jenny said, pointing at an orange glow that blinked on and off slowly. Then a steady blue light distracted her. “Oooh, no, that one.”

The overhead lights were off, deemed enthusiastically unnecessary by three quarters of the room’s occupants and reluctantly so by one quarter. Chris and Jenny lay flat on their backs next to the tree and stared at the ceiling with rapt expressions.

“The shadows are the best, the way they move. I don’t have a favorite, I just like them all together,” Chris said.

“Yeah, you’re right. They’re all so pretty and colorful.”

Johnny tilted his head against the back of the sofa then, gazed up at the ceiling himself. Roy shrugged and decided if he couldn’t beat them, he might as well join them and they sat there for a long while, each of them in their own little world.

The tree was the last six feet of space to be decked out, though they’d bought it and set it up a couple of weeks ago. Johnny, Chris and Jenny seemed determined to keep it bare until Christmas Eve, so bare it had been, as if the small living room were part forest. Roy grumbled about being outvoted and still being the one to have to water the thing to keep the needles from falling too fast, but in truth he didn’t mind if it made his kids happy. 

He might once upon a time have felt a spark of masculine protest and concern about how he was clearly not in charge under this roof, but these days he was inclined to enjoy life instead of worrying about presumed roles and the ego that came with them. Now he smiled softly, noted that the icicles had been left clumped and unevenly distributed on the lower half of the overly large, real tree Johnny and the kids both had insisted they get. The fake tree was stuck in the garage, and he knew that if his family had anything to say about it, it’d be there forever unless he one day took it upon himself to trash it. 

He found he was really okay with that. The scent of pine filled the house, and he had to admit that swapping out only a few of the bulbs on the light string with blinkers was a stroke of genius on Johnny’s part. All flashing would be too much stimulation, frankly, but the occasional flicker of an orange here, a green there amid the steady majority of rainbow-colored light cast terrific, ever changing silhouettes of pine needles on the ceiling and walls lent a very atmospheric feel to the whole room. He’d put on a record as they draped garland and hung ornaments, a low and peaceful soundtrack that was still filling the air. 

The afternoon was about the most wonderful one Roy could recall, especially given how rough these last two months had been, and the two years before them as well. He would credit that to the holiday spirit, which really did tend to elevate all feelings of good will, but he knew it wasn’t so sentimental as that. Or, maybe it was even more sentimental in an undoubtedly more personal way. He was a man who’d loved deeply and lost tragically, then loved and nearly lost again, and it only struck home to him how vitally important it was to have those who were precious to him near. 

Johnny’s right hand found Roy’s left in a downright surreptitious maneuver, and they sat with their fingers loosely entwined for a few, too-brief minutes, under the cover of dim light. Roy wished they could do this all the time, relax into their private roles while in public, but now wasn’t the time to start. Maybe someday they could sit down and talk to the kids about the fact they were more than really good friends, but it was a discussion he wasn’t ready for and nor was this the time. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready. He expected it wouldn’t be so easy, if they ever decided to speak of it openly to his kids, who still sometimes fell apart at memories of their mother. It wasn’t fair to ask them to understand something it had taken him nearly fifteen years to understand himself, and, well, he didn’t want this kind of perfection they’d managed to achieve to end. 

“Let’s make hot chocolate,” Chris said. “Can we?”

Once upon a time, Johnny might have waxed poetic about how Los Angeles never got cool enough for traditional holiday things like cocoa and spiced cider and wool scarves and mittens. His speech therapist had hailed Johnny as a remarkable case, lauded the progress made since the brutal attack had left him with a stutter and moderate aphasia as nothing short of a miracle, but he continued to occasionally mix up words and flip-flop nouns and verbs and overall it made him speak less frequently than his natural, exuberant self should. He tended to keep his sentences short and to the point, no more rambling. So, instead of a lecture about how cold it was growing up on the reservation and how LA kids had no idea, Johnny only cheered and led Chris and Jenny to the kitchen to put a saucepan of milk onto a burner. 

It was too close to dinnertime for a treat of hot cocoa, but Roy didn’t say anything. ‘Twas the season for indulgence, after all. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and watched as the three most important people in his life worked together to pull mugs from cupboards and gather the ingredients for a delicious batch of cocoa. Johnny laughed and chatted with the kids without any of the self-consciousness he got with adults, even him sometimes, and it was a beautiful thing to see. He wished he could record it for posterity, so he could relive the moment over and over, but then he thought he didn’t need it. That feeling in his heart would remain. He could always call it back up.

The Christmas album finally scratched to an end, and Roy wandered to the player to flip it and start the other side. When he got back, Johnny, Chris and Jenny had chocolate moustaches and were holding quartered graham crackers into their hot drinks to see whose would last the longest without getting soggy and breaking off. 

“Hey,” he said, “where’s mine?”

“Fridge in the nog,” Johnny said. “It’s better, you like.”

He didn’t like egg nog all that much, but when Joanne’s parents and his had come over last weekend for their own family celebration, Joanne’s mother had brought a batch of her presumably famous (Roy thought infamous was more like it, and after two days in the refrigerator it was bound to be horrible) holiday beverage and insisted he keep the leftovers. He took out the bottle and reluctantly poured himself a glass anyway, startled slightly when Johnny joined him, cocoa mug held out in a silent request for a top off.

“Energy needed.” Johnny waggled his eyebrows and his attention veered down Roy’s torso just for a second. “For later?”

Roy felt color rush up his neck and into his ears. The implication was definitely clear, there, if not spoken in more than a few words. It’d been months since he and Johnny had slept together in any way that wasn’t purely for function and the very mention of it had him wishing he could send the kids to bed right away. He watched wordlessly as Johnny gently took the bottle from his hands, filled his mug with the bourbon-heavy drink and drank with gusto. When he dropped the mug, a line of frothy white coated his upper lip; he brushed it off with the back of his hand and a wink that was nothing but lecherous, as if Jenny and Chris weren’t sitting right there.

Roy cleared his throat and sipped his own drink rather than gulped, but not because he wanted to take it slow but because he might choke if he swallowed as heavily as he wanted. He was nervous at the prospect of being with Johnny again after so long and after his lover had suffered such heinous injuries simply for them being who they were, for the act of a man loving another man both physically and emotionally. 

But he was also incredibly eager. They hadn’t done anything, but many a night had been spent touching and holding and usually had ended up with him masturbating while Johnny watched. It was always hot, but it wasn’t the same. He hadn’t wanted to push, knew that it was more important for Johnny to be healthy and whole than it was to be sexually satisfied.

“Later, for sure,” Roy said and pretended his voice wasn’t in a slightly different octave than usual. 

With the promise of sex firmly planted in his head, the remainder of the afternoon and dinner seemed to move at an interminable pace to Roy. A game of Candyland with Jenny and Rack-O with Chris had never seemed so torturous, and through it all, Johnny just grinned at him like the damned Cheshire Cat. Roy was grateful for the distraction dinner provided and, as Johnny had said, the fuel would be needed for later. He had no intention of a session of mad, frenetic fucking – Johnny wasn’t up for it, despite how he’d protest that – but a slow show could burn just as much energy. 

Their Christmas Eve feast was a simple meal of salad, spaghetti and garlic bread. Roy’s cooking skills were decent, but for him it wasn’t about the food. He didn’t have to have turkey or ham or stuffing to be happy. They’d have that tomorrow, as their neighbor Ida Mae had insisted on making the DeSotos a Christmas dinner, saying it would give her a chance to have something nice herself also, as she was all alone this year with family back east and no money to travel. She also claimed she wanted to fatten Johnny back up after his ordeal, her concern always tangible and often intrusive. The fattening bit was a line and everyone knew it. She just wanted an excuse to goose his partner, who had never for a second in his life been even a pound overweight.

They made quick work of the clean up, with Johnny washing, the kids drying and Roy supervising. He schooled his face to not reflect anything when the dishes occasionally slipped through Johnny’s grip back into the water with a splash, a subtle reminder that his left-sided weakness was still an issue. A much smaller issue, thank goodness, but sometimes a reminder of it called back every excruciating detail for Roy. It never lasted long, just flashes of unease amid what he would still consider an amazing recovery. The way things were going, Johnny might be able to take a desk job at HQ in a few months, once his reading and speech improved. 

That wasn’t an ideal outcome, but Roy wasn’t sure Johnny would ever be in the field again, at least not as a paramedic. The thought made him scowl every time, and it was one he rarely expressed out loud. Johnny knew, though, having heard his prognosis far more often and in more renditions than Roy had and so far didn’t seem terribly upset about it. Post-attack Johnny Gage was one of a more relaxed temperament and his former _joie de vivre_ was expressed in different, more understated ways than it had been before. Part of that was due to his physical limitations, perhaps, but there was a certain kind of insight in Johnny’s countenance now. He knew things, most importantly the value of life. 

“Daddy, read _The Night Before Christmas_ to us?” Jenny said, tugging on his sleeve once the last dish was dried and put away. “Like Mommy used to?”

He’d tried last year, but hadn’t managed to make it through the whole poem. This year would be better. Roy followed as Jenny hauled him back to the living room, colors now even brighter with the darkness of night not diffusing the tree lights anymore. 

“Okay,” Roy said. “Then it’s time for bed, huh?”

“Aw, Dad.”

“The earlier you go to bed, the earlier you can get up to see what Santa brought you.”

That sent Jenny on an excited rampage around the living room, arms waving and legs kicking in a happy little dance. Chris was more reserved, maybe even rolled his eyes a bit, and, yeah, Roy figured the Santa jig was up as far as his eldest went. Chris was a good boy, though, and wasn’t going to ruin it for his sister. Last year’s Christmas might have been what killed the belief in Chris he thought with a pang, though Jenny insisted Santa had brought them an early gift – her Uncle Johnny. Any way he shook it, Roy was very proud to have two such great kids. They’d been through a lot in their short lives, but never let it get them down.

Jenny finally settled next to him on the couch, with Chris bracketing his other side. Johnny wandered off as Roy opened the book and began to read slowly. He kept his tone calm and soothing, something he was good at naturally and could enhance when motivated to do so, and by the time he was finished both kids had glassy eyes and would obviously have no problem getting to sleep. He closed the book and nudged each of them.

“Go get your pajamas on, brush your teeth,” Roy said softly. “I’ll be right up.”

While the kids scampered upstairs, Roy took a quick circuit of the downstairs. He found Johnny in the den, converted into his sleeping area while he was recuperating. Over the last month or so, it had started to look more and more like an actual bedroom and it was comfortable. Four nights out of five, they both slept there until the early hours of the morning. At the start, it was simply easier for Roy to get back upstairs than it was for Johnny to get down.

“Hey, you okay?” Roy asked. He sat next to Johnny on the bed, enjoyed the press of their shoulders and thighs where they touched. “Was today too much?”

“No. Wrap paper with present,” Johnny said and heaved an aggravated sigh. He handed Roy a slim package, clumsily wrapped. “I had … wrap. Present.”

“For me? Johnny, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Yes, I did.”

Before he could open it, which Johnny seemed to want him to, Jenny bellowed from the top of the stairs that she was ready to be tucked in.

“Her Highness calls,” Roy said with a wry grin. “We’ll do this after, huh?”

Johnny nodded and grinned back, slightly more crookedly than his smile used to be. Roy gave him a light kiss on that crooked mouth and headed upstairs to put his girl to bed. By the time he came back down, Johnny had started pulling the Santa gifts from his closet – the perfect hiding spot, since the kids rarely disturbed Johnny’s privacy. Roy watched for a moment as his lover shuffled slightly under the weight and bulk of gifts. His gait was so much less hindered than it had been, but it still stirred up deep emotion in Roy sometimes. Johnny turned and caught his look. 

“Aw, Roy,” he said. “Don’t. Good … feel. I’m good.”

“I know,” Roy said. “I know you are.”

Roy took a deep breath and stepped into the living room. He helped unload the packages in Johnny’s arms, tucking them under the tree. It was a light year as far as physical gifts, too much had happened for him to have saved as much as he’d have liked, but he didn’t think the kids would notice. He headed into Johnny’s room for another armful of gifts, and laughed to himself when he saw Johnny had found his old Santa hat, probably during one of his decorating fits. With a spark of whimsy, Roy put it on and smiled at the child-like look of glee on Johnny’s face when he returned to the living room.

“Hey, Santa,” Johnny said, tweaking Roy’s butt as he leaned down. 

Roy jerked upright, laughing. Johnny stared at him with such a fond expression that Roy couldn’t help but pull him into a kiss, just a soft, chaste peck. That was the idea anyway, but when Johnny parted his lips and invited Roy in, it escalated into something hot, heavy and very dirty. He had an instant of that hesitation, the fear of hurting Johnny accidentally, but caved when his lover curled his tongue around his own and moaned. He started guiding Johnny backward, hands roaming down his back and to his ass. They bumped into the recliner and stumbled over the sofa, where his Santa hat fell off. They hit against the doorframe, but then they were in the hall and it was a straight path to Johnny’s room. 

Johnny gasped into his ear as they crossed the threshold. Roy shut the door quietly, fumbled for the lock before he returned his attention to Johnny. He tugged Johnny’s shirt free from the waistband of his jeans, hand snaking up bare, smooth skin and he pulled Johnny closer and closer into a tight embrace. He shivered at the low chuckle Johnny gave, shivered more as his lover kissed his neck, scraped his teeth gently along his jaw line.

“Oh god, Johnny,” he breathed out. “Want you.”

“You want too,” Johnny whispered. He reached a hand between them, rubbed at Roy’s belly for a moment and then started sliding his belt free from its loop and buckle. “Have to. C’mon.”

Roy wanted nothing more than to tear at his clothes, get them off, off, but he let Johnny work at the belt and the fly of his jeans. His own hands charted the territory of Johnny’s back, turned his head so they were kissing deep and slow and wet while Johnny’s right hand slid into his jeans, then boxers, and tentatively wrapped around him. He moaned and gave up the fight. He withdrew his hands from the delicious spread that was Johnny’s back, broke the kiss and took half a step back so he could get a good grip on the front of his shirt. Roy ripped it open, the clatter of buttons making him grin like a fool. Johnny’s hand around his cock pulled away so they could both concentrate on getting their clothes off.

It was a little awkward, Johnny’s reduced dexterity only partly the reason. Both of them fought against pent-up desire, and Roy couldn’t refrain from making frustrated noises when his shirt caught on his hand or his damn shoestrings wouldn’t cooperate. He felt almost like it was their first time all over again, which only added to his need. His cock was already painfully erect, but when the flurry of flying clothes was over and he looked up to see Johnny laid out on the bed, well, there was no gift in the world he wanted more. 

He climbed on the bed and lay close to Johnny, right hand roaming down his lover’s belly. Roy kissed along Johnny’s collarbone, up his neck, which arched gracefully under his mouth. He lifted himself off the mattress, half lay on top of Johnny with his right leg nestled between Johnny’s. He brushed it up, thigh sliding against John’s length and was pleased at the way Johnny spread his legs wider and clamped his hands on Roy’s ass. His mouth reached Johnny’s and they kissed again, just as deeply as before. A shock of pure excitement shot through him as Johnny’s fingers pulled him close, then began probing at the crease of his ass until a fingertip circled its way around his opening. 

“John,” he gasped, and all of a sudden wanted nothing but for Johnny to be in him. 

Johnny laughed and the finger delved deeper, dry and a bit painful, but also amazing. Roy wasn’t sure how this was a good idea, though. Johnny wasn’t up for the exertion of being on top, but holy hell did he seem to want to try. Roy stroked Johnny gently, thrust against the outside of Johnny’s hip as Johnny kept toying with him more and more insistently. 

“Need ta,” Johnny said. “Roy, need you.”

The idea came to him in a flash when Johnny’s finger sank into him up to the second knuckle. Roy jerked, flopped away to reach for the lube they kept in the small desk next to the bed. It might have felt like their first time a few moments ago, but they moved like they’d always been together now, reading intent behind every move. Roy slicked the first three fingers of Johnny’s hand with the lube, adjusted his position for easiest access and within seconds was overcome with the sensation of Johnny prepping him. It had been so long there was discomfort, but it didn’t matter and was quickly overtaken by pleasure. Soon he was pushing into every thrust of Johnny’s fingers, almost too out of it to realize when Johnny rolled to his side.

“No,” Roy said roughly, voice harsh with his need. 

It seemed like all the blood in Roy’s body was in his dick, he couldn’t get his mouth to form words. Instead, he guided Johnny back to the bed, kissed him softly and ran his hands along Johnny’s torso. He straddled Johnny, and that was when the other man started to have some clue as to what Roy intended. Johnny surged up, cock brushing against Roy’s backside. Roy shakily stretched for the desk, and realized too late that while they stored lube down here, there were no condoms. He folded against Johnny with an aggravated groan.

Johnny ran his fingers through Roy’s hair, lifted his head from the shoulder he’d buried his face in. He smiled, the brightness of it not muted at all by the dim light from the small bedside lamp, still on. Then he grasped Roy’s hips tightly and made to lift him. 

“Okay, Roy, can still,” Johnny said and nodded. “Yeah?”

Roy blinked, but then a surge of unadulterated lust flooded through him. He forgot the search for a condom and instead looked for the lube. He might later be embarrassed at how eagerly he scooted off long enough to coat Johnny liberally, caressing Johnny’s cock and balls both until his lover’s hips lifted off the bed. He sat astride John again, then, and concentrated on finding the right position, holding Johnny steady beneath him. He gasped as the head of Johnny’s cock breached him, the feel of just that alone so, so much different to when it was sheathed by a rubber. 

Slowly, Roy eased down, attention partially on watching Johnny’s face and partially overwhelmed by the awesome feel of that cock entering him inch by inch. It was … there was no way this was going to be the slow night of lovemaking he’d initially thought it would be. When he finally had Johnny in him fully, he couldn’t move for a second. But then, he didn’t have to move. Beneath him, Johnny gave the tiniest of thrusts and the slide of silky skin inside him twinged a little, took him half a second to get accustomed to. The feeling was like nothing his blood-deprived brain could describe, but he somehow felt so much more connected to Johnny like this. Johnny slid in and out of him with tight, barely-there motions.

Roy trailed his fingertips lightly on the surgical scar on Johnny’s right side, the ghost of his ruptured liver. Johnny hissed under his touch, but it seemed to spur him on. He raised his legs and the force of his cock plunging into Roy heightened. He leaned to press his lips and tongue against Johnny’s left nipple, the movement changing the angle of Johnny’s thrusts in a very interesting way. Johnny apparently agreed, his body convulsing beneath him, no ability to maintain the relentless rhythm he’d set. 

“Guhmph,” Roy mumbled. 

He rocked up and down, sometimes in line with Johnny’s dick propelling into him and sometimes jarringly out of sync. It was good anyway, rough or smooth. He heard Johnny gasp and groan softly, hands on his hips grasping so tightly there would undoubtedly be bruises in the morning. The room was filled with those sounds so familiar, and so welcome back under this roof after the mandatory hiatus. The rustle of the bed sheets and sight squeak of the mattress and the slick sound of their sweaty skin squelching slightly were all so basic and so sensual, all things that had almost been taken from them. 

“Roy,” Johnny moaned, quiet and deep. He reached for Roy’s hard cock and loosely wrapped his right hand around him. “Love.”

The orgasm hit Roy hard, fast and almost sudden. Jolts of pleasure rocked through him as Johnny rocked into him with no finesse, a heady mix of release and continued stimulation as Johnny hit his prostate over and over despite the clumsiness of his movements. Roy threw his head back and arched, felt even through his own haze of climax the moment Johnny followed him down. The feel of Johnny’s release into him, no barrier between them, prolonged his orgasm to an almost painful degree.

Roy slumped, muscles failing him, moaning against the base of Johnny’s sweaty throat as the softening cock slid out slowly. He vaguely felt the cool wet of his own come against his chest and the odd feel of Johnny’s against the inside of his ass cheeks and thighs. He didn’t care, about either, fantastically exhausted by what he’d just shared with the man he could not ever come close to losing again. That was a fact of life now. He’d shared a good portion of his life with Joanne, whom he still loved very much, but he was going to spend the rest of it with Johnny. That was the only way it could be. With that thought in his mind, he faded into a semi-conscious daze, for minutes. Hours. It was a little astonishing how time warped and how he didn’t care.

The soft slide of hands up and down his back called him closer to awareness. He shifted off of Johnny completely, but didn’t lose contact. Eyes closed, Roy wrapped his arms around Johnny’s messy torso and pulled until Johnny laughed and turned his body toward him. They lay, limbs loosely entwined, warm in each other’s embrace. He opened his eyes and saw Johnny studying him closely, that same fond expression that had started all of this on his face again. Roy thought he could die a happy man if he saw that face looking just like that, every day. 

“Jesus,” Roy whispered. “I love you so much.”

“Love you,” Johnny said, eyes warm. He leaned and pressed a kiss to Roy’s forehead, while he jostled around a bit, arm stretching over Roy’s shoulder. He groped around as if searching for something. “Urgh, can’t get it.”

Curious, Roy twisted slightly to look behind him just as Johnny’s left hand latched onto that slim Christmas gift he’d been about to give him earlier. He steadied Johnny’s hand and held onto the gift.

“Open it.”

Roy tore into the sloppily wrapped present with fingers that were only just starting to regain their feeling. He glanced at Johnny, who looked so pleased with himself he had to pause to kiss him. Johnny smiled into the kiss, but shoved at Roy’s chest insistently to get him back to the task at hand. Roy sighed and balled up the paper, tossed it off the side of the bed. He opened the small box and blinked at its contents a few times. His heart felt too big for his chest all of a sudden. He darted a look at Johnny, then back to the box. Just when he thought Johnny couldn’t possibly give him anything more or better, he managed to anyway.

“Is this real?” Roy asked. “Johnny?”

“Merry,” Johnny said. “Merry.”

Roy threw his arms around Johnny and choked back his emotion, buried his face into Johnny’s neck. The box slid off of his lap and the bed. The gift, a set of papers with the title _Contract for the Sale and Purchase of Real Estate_ emblazoned across the top, was already completed with the address and detail information of Johnny’s former residence.


End file.
